


Collection of SGA ficlets & drabbles

by lemotmo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Kid!Fic, M/M, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Stargate Atlantis AU, Stargate Atlantis canon, Teyla!mom fic, crack!AU, crack!fic, fairy tale AU, fairy tale!crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:26:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemotmo/pseuds/lemotmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>This is a collection of my SGA ficlets & drabbles written for mini NaNoWriMo 2007. They're not big enough to get their own post, so I'm putting them up together in seperate chapters.</b>
</p><p>This will contain fluff, angst, crack...</p><p>If there's a pairing, it's always John/Rodney, sometimes romantic, sometimes friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of transferring my best fics from Livejournal to this Ao3 account. As I read the stories again, I can clearly see the way my writing-style has changed (for the better) over the years. Some of these stories could use some re-editing. However, I have decided to leave the fics as they are. Each story clearly reflects the way I looked upon the world at the moment of writing. I kinda like that.
> 
>  **These ficlets/drabbles are reposts from fics written in November 2007**.

**Title** : The Truth is Out There  
 **Date** : Thursday, 01/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard (as a child)  
 **Pairing(s)** : none  
 **Summary** : “There is no such thing as aliens,” John murmured.  
 **Word count** : #770

The curtains billowed and fluttered open as the cool Nevada wind invaded John’s bedroom and exposed the great expanse of the night sky, lined with what had to be at least a _gazillion_ stars, John figured as he carefully peeked out from underneath the sheets. He quickly closed the gap as soon as he had established that he was still alone in his room.

Three sheets were carefully draped all over the bed, covering every inch of the big mattress and in the middle, there was a small _boy-sized_ lump that moved every time a gust of wind blew in and ruffled the fortress made of cloth.

“There is no such thing as aliens,” John murmured—the sound not carrying any farther than a foot or two from the bed. “There is no such thing as aliens,” he repeated.

At least that’s what John’s father had told him a few days ago, after John had woken up in a blind panic in the middle of the night, having seen _War of the Worlds_ only the night before in the rickety old movie theatre at the outskirts of Glendale—the city right next to Luke Air Force base, where his father was stationed.

“There’s no such thing as aliens,” John huffed out a little louder, doing his very best to convince himself, “I’m just being silly.”

It was starting to get really warm underneath all those sheets. After one more breath of _too hot_ stale air, John decided that enough was enough. So he screwed his eyes tightly shut, absolutely determined to keep them closed, because at least with his eyes closed he could _pretend_ there were no aliens there—standing next to his bed, with their big three-fingered hands and big _suction-things_ at the end of each finger. Then he quickly threw off the sheets, exposing his body to the cool wind.

He was just another normal, skinny, eight-year old boy, his ribs clearly visible as he gulped in big breaths of fresh air. His jet-black hair was in disarray as it stood up in weird angles at the back and was plastered to his forehead in the front—clearly showing the difference between dark hair and too-pale, almost translucent, skin.

Trying to calm down the frantic _thump-thump_ of his heart, John started to hum a song his mom had taught him a long time ago. He was _almost_ absolutely sure now—there were no aliens in his room. They were not lurking in the dark, waiting for him, wanting to use him for all kinds off experiments, like… sucking his life out of him or something equally horrible.

But it was no use, for no matter how much he tried to be logical about it, he just couldn’t stop thinking about the one single thing that he did know for a fact—

It was his father who had told him that there was no such thing as aliens. 

But then again, his father had also _told_ him that Santa would never forget about him, no matter which base they moved to. His father had _assured_ him that his grandpa would live to be a hundred years old, for sure. And most importantly, his father had _promised_ that Mom would only be in the hospital for a few days, and then she’d be back home, where she belonged.

Three things his father had said—and all three had turned out wrong.

His grandpa had been fine one day, and a few days later, John had been in church, dressed all in black, his mom holding on to him, telling him it would all be okay, while his father sat next to them, staring off into space. A few months later, Mom was checked into the hospital and never came home again. And worst of all—after that, Christmas was no longer celebrated in their house, and Santa seemed to have forgotten about John completely.

So—his eyes still tightly closed, John gathered up the sheets that were still lying around him and started to build himself another fortress, without peeking once. After all, if his father had been wrong about the first three things, he could be wrong about the fourth one too—right?

He wasn’t prepared to take the chance, so he settled underneath the sheets again, curling up into a little ball, taking a deep breath one last time before he opened his eyes to the darkness—knowing that it would be _half an hour_ —three quarters of an hour, tops, before he’d repeat the same routine all over again.

“There is no such thing as aliens,” he started. “There is no such thing as aliens. There is…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Title** : Lost  
 **Date** : Friday, 02/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : Unknown character (scientist)  
 **Pairing(s)** : Rodney McKay/John Sheppard  
 **Summary** : An unknown scientist’s point of view on the situation in Atlantis when _someone_ goes missing.  
 **Word count** : #205

He’s gone now. Lost.

And the funny thing is that the old cliché is true—you never really know what you have until it’s gone.

To me, Rodney McKay was an infuriating presence most of the time—yelling, complaining and bitching like the world depended on his crudeness and maybe it did. Maybe we all missed something there, because when he-- _left_ , life on Atlantis just seemed to come to a full stop.

We’re still _there_ right now—stranded in that moment _between_ yesterday and tomorrow, unable to move on.

Sometimes I think that, when McKay disappeared, the Colonel pleaded with Atlantis to halt the universe—to give him more time to go out there and search. And Atlantis –faithful as ever- tried and did her best, but failed in the end—because the universe around us bustled on. The Assurans kept on coming and the Wraith never stopped the culling.

It’s only here, in the City of Atlantis that time stands still as the Colonel keeps on going out there, day after day, searching but never _finding_. And every day, when he stumbles through the Stargate and crosses the gateroom with empty hands, he looks a little older—worn out.

It won’t be long now, before they’re both gone. Lost.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Title** : Timeless  
 **Date** : Saturday, 03/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Olivia McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : Rodney McKay/John Sheppard  
 **Summary** : Earth-based AU, Rodney has a little girl and John is his best friend.  
 **Word count** : # 593

When Rodney comes home from work, he’s not prepared for the tableau that unfolds as he walks into the living room. John’s stretched out on the couch, his sock-clad feet are resting on the armrest and his left arm is dangling over the edge, fingers not quite touching the open book that’s fallen to the ground.

Olivia is lying on John’s chest, stretched out and completely relaxed as she revels in John’s warmth. One of her tiny fists is clenched in John’s sweater as his right hand gently rests on her back, protective and nurturing— unconsciously defending her against the bogeyman that occasionally features in her dreams.

John sniffles in his sleep as a long stretched-out strand of spittle makes its way down his cheek and his head slips a little further down on the pillow it’s resting on. His hair is in total disarray and Rodney grins, already imagining John’s reaction when he’ll wake up later and discover the messy state of his hair. No matter how fervently John denies it, Rodney knows for a fact that John never leaves his apartment before he has checked—at least _twice_ \-- whether or not his hair is perfectly groomed.

Olivia reacts to John’s movement by burrowing a little deeper into his warmth. As soon as she settles again, she smacks her lips quite loudly and farts.

This time Rodney can’t keep it in and laughs out loud. As if on cue, the right corner of John’s mouth curls up and sleepy eyelids open slowly.

“Hey,” John mumbles, not moving an inch as to not disturb the little girl sleeping in his arms.

“Hey,” Rodney answers, stepping up closer to the couch and smiling down indulgently upon his best friend and daughter, all rumpled and cozy.

“You’re here,” John whispers.

“Yeah, I told Zelenka to finish the experiment by himself and I closed up the office,” Rodney whispers back, crouching down next to him.

“Good, she’s been asking about you ever since I picked her up at the day-care centre.”

“She has?”

“Yeah, I think she was a little confused about why uncle John picked her up instead of her daddy.”

“Well,” Rodney whispers, reaching out to lay a careful hand on his daughter’s head. “I’ll make it up to her tonight by reading her an extra bedtime story.”

“She’ll love that,” John smiles.

“She will?” Rodney said, grinning back. “Well, Mr Sheppard-- since when did you become such an expert on the topic of my _almost_ two-year old daughter?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” John murmurs sarcastically. “Probably since the moment you called me up in a blind panic to tell me that someone had dumped a baby on your doorstep and that _apparently_ it was yours?”

Chuckling softly, Rodney looks over at his daughter, stroking her brown curly hair—“That sounds about right.” Slowly his gaze travels back up as he meets John’s eyes. “It seems to me though that you’re an expert in more than just my daughter,” he muses, sounding a tad surprised and confused, but happy at the same time.

“Is that so?” John says softly, his eyes hopeful as he brings his hand up and rests it on Rodney’s shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

Carefully tilting his head, Rodney settles his cheek against John’s hand, rubbing against those warm fingers. “Just something I realised when I came in and saw you two all snuggled up together,” he admits.

“Took you long enough, Rodney,” John whispers, smirking happily, right before a smiling Rodney buries his hand in John’s hair and leans in.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Title** : Collateral Damage  
 **Date** : Sunday, 04/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mostly strong John/Rodney friendship and perhaps some unrequited feelings from Rodney's POV.  
 **Warning** : NC-17 for heavy angsty subject matter  
 **Summary** : _Rodney is forced to choose._  
 **Word count** : # 394

“Collateral damage,” she had said. “All part of the game. There’s no way around it—you’ll have to pick _one_ of them. _One_ who will serve as a sacrifice to please our Lords. If you don’t—this man will die.” And then eight of her guards had surrounded the Colonel and had forced them to surrender.

How does one pick one child over another. How does one weigh the value of each single soul? Can you measure it by the intensity of the mothers’ pleas as they throw themselves on the ground, outside the fence: yelling, crying, praying to let their baby live. Or perhaps the cursing of the fathers can tell me which one to pick and which ones to save.

They’ve forced Sheppard on his knees in the middle of the square. He has been tied down upon an altar that’s covered with dried, crusted blood. In the corner, the axe is being sharpened by a gruesome looking man, who shoots me an obscene grin as he runs his finger over the blade—drawing blood. It’s ready.

“Choose!” the High Priestess yells, her cloak billowing out as she throws up her arms, before pointing into the direction of the twelve children, all of them tied up against the fence. The crowd grows even wilder as they throw themselves up against the metal bars, rattling the construction, but not even making a single scratch on the alloy. It’s impossible to get in—Rodney knows this, because he inspected the metal himself—it’s virtually indestructible.

There’s no way out.

The executioner steps up next to the altar, still grinning as he slowly lifts the axe. Sheppard’s eyes grow unfocused for a moment as he swallows convulsively—two—three times, heaving up the meagre contents of his stomach, before he looks up and stares at me intensely. It’s all there—the unspoken words--

_You’re doing the right thing Rodney. I know you would._

\--up in the air, floating between us.

I close my eyes, wishing –for a moment- that I could be the man he seems to think I am—before I lift my arm and point.

Somewhere behind me a mother screams out in utter despair and a father starts crying, but when I open my eyes all I can see is Sheppard’s cold accusing glare as the guards remove the ropes that bind him to the altar.

_I’m sorry John. I’m so sorry._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** : All those good mornings  
 **Date** : Monday, 05/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : John/Rodney  
 **Summary** : _The mornings are different now._  
 **Warning** : This is a season 4 AU drabble.  
 **Word count** : # 112

**A/N** : This is a short season 4 AU drabble. I just assume that John and Rodney have been a couple ever since season 2 or early season 3.

 

The mornings are different now. As the second of the two moons slowly slips behind the horizon, a blue-tinted sun appears. A sun that's a lot brighter then the sun on Lantea ever was. They miss it sometimes-- that soft golden light spilling over their balcony in the early hours of the morning—spilling inside their quarters. Waking up like that always felt kind of magical—as if they were the only two people in the entire universe and they could stay like that forever—wrapped up together, John’s head resting on Rodney’s chest, his hand loosely draped over Rodney’s stomach as he pressed a little closer, lifted his head and kissed Rodney good morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Title** : Ne me quitte pas  
 **Date** : Tuesday, 06/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : John/Rodney  
 **Summary** : _It’s the moments in between talking that John cherishes the most._  
 **Word count** : # 179

 **A/N** : This was written while I was listening to the most incredible song ‘Ne me quitte pas’ from Jacques Brel. That song really has one of the most beautiful lyrics and music ever created.

 

It’s the moments _in between_ talking —the moments when Rodney’s quiet and intense as he just looks at him, bends over and softly kisses him— that John cherishes the most. Because it tells him so much more than all the words that were ever said between them. It means _I miss you_ as Rodney Rodney's tongue softly lingers on his lower lip, before dipping in and tasting John’s mouth. He hears _I love you_ as John moans and arches up underneath him when Rodney just kind of-— melts into the kiss, as if he’s planning on getting lost in John’s taste forever.

Every morning it’s the same routine: John wakes up—alone, _wanting_ , _wishing_ , _craving_ as he remembers the dream. And he knows it’s crazy and completely insane-- and he’s quite sure that if anyone knew, they’d send him to Heightmeyer in an instant.

But the truth is, that, as long as the dreams keep on coming John won’t tell a soul, because it’s all he’s got left of Rodney. It’s all he’s ever wanted. It’s all he _never_ had.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Title** : The World’s Greatest  
 **Date** : Wednesday, 07/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : none  
 **Summary** : _The greatest Canadian invention is…_  
 **Word count** : # 300

 

“This—this is unbelievable. By far the worst piece of pseudo-scientific nonsense I’ve ever read in my entire life,” Rodney complained as he sent the email straight to the recycle bin. “And believe me, I’ve read my share of complete and utter crap. But this is just—and he actually got the Nobel prize for this. Can you believe that? What has the world come to? I mean—apparently any monkey who’s bright enough to add two and two together is now eligible to receive what was once the most respected and most difficult to earn honour in the entire scientific community—and I’m talking about _real_ science here— the kind that requires hard work and that can make a difference in the world—or in my case: the universe.”

“Really,” John drawled, shooting him an amused grin. “And I suppose _all_ the projects you’re currently working on in your lab will benefit humanity in some way?”

“Well—yeah,” Rodney huffed as he puffed out his chest and smiled smugly.

“What about your latest project?” John asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

“What about it?”

“Well— it’s not exactly an invention that can benefit humankind in _any_ way,” John said.

“Excuse me?” Rodney spluttered indignantly. “You clearly have no idea what you’re talking about, Colonel. My solar powered _super-deluxe Pegasus Atlantis McKay 5000_ will completely change the way people think. It will lead humankind –in any galaxy- into an era of renewal and invention. People will stop wasting time. No more laziness and no more then four hours of sleep every night. Think of all the time that could be spent exploring brave new worlds and making ground-breaking discoveries. Can’t you see the enormous potential here?” he asked, staring at John.

“It’s a freaking coffee machine!” John yelled, throwing up his hands in frustration.

“ _Exactly_ my point."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Title** : Child Prodigy  
 **Date** : Friday, 09/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : none  
 **Summary** : _Science or Music?_  
 **Word count** : # 175

 **A/N** : Just a little drabble about Rodney’s childhood. I hope I got all the canonical facts straight.

 

When Rodney was eleven he built a perfect replica of a nuclear bomb for his school’s yearly science fair. He was so damn proud of it, because he knew for a fact that no one else’s project could even compare to his. So when _–instead of the talent scouts he’d expected-_ two serious looking men showed up on the McKay’s doorstep, flashing their CIA badges, Rodney was very disappointed and _-when he finally realised that they were actually there for him and not his obnoxious little sister-_ also a little scared.

It took his mother exactly ten minutes to get rid of them, yelling and threatening them with lawsuits so big that even their children’s great-grandchildren would still have to pay punitive damages.

Rodney decided right there and then that the whole _science thing_ just wasn’t worth the hassle—because _come on_ \-- the CIA! So, he sat down behind his piano and started to play the piece he’d learned that week _–flawlessly of course-_ as he started dreaming of his future as a famous concert pianist.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Title** : Making up  
 **Date** : Saturday, 10/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : Rodney McKay, John Sheppard  
 **Pairing(s)** : John/Rodney  
 **Warning** : Sex, NC-17  
 **Word count** : # 245

 **A/N** : A porny drabble that came out of nowhere. Honestly, I didn’t even start out to write porn— it just kinda happened. :o)

_'I’m sorry'_ John whispers in Rodney’s ear as he proceeds to slowly kiss his way down, lingering a while longer to nuzzle the crease between Rodney’s neck and shoulder. One hand is resting on Rodney’s hip, fingers drawing unknown patterns across sensitive skin.

_'Forgive me'_ John breathes against Rodney’s chest as he licks Rodney’s right nipple, before taking it between his lips, sucking—teasing. The hand on Rodney’s hip moves a little closer to his groin and Rodney moans in anticipation.

_'I mean it this time'_ John murmurs against Rodney’s hipbone, creating a red pattern as he sucks a patch of skin into his mouth, biting down gently, before releasing it and licking it to soothe the pain. His hand brushes the base of Rodney cock, causing Rodney to arch into the curves of John’s body.

_'I love you'_ John practically yells without actually saying a single word, as he takes Rodney’s cock into his mouth and sucks it in deeply until his nose is buried in pubic hair and the head of Rodney’s cock is pressed up against the back of his throat. His hand has moved back to Rodney’s hip—to hold him still this time.

_'It’s okay'_ Rodney sighs as John sucks a little harder.  
 _'I forgive you'_ he yelps as John fingers travel further south and press down right _there_.  
 _'I know'_ he moans as John swallows around his cock.  
 _'Me too'_ he shouts as he finally comes and John takes it all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title** : Listen to the Beat  
 **Date** : Monday, 26/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : Teyla Emmagan  
 **Pairing(s)** : none  
 **Summary** : _The Rhythm is gonna get you._  
 **Warning** : spoiler for season 4.  
 **Word count** : # 162

The one thing Teyla loves more than anything else in the universe, is to just let go and lose herself in rhythm.">The one thing Teyla loves more than anything else in the universe, is to just let go and lose herself in rhythm. 

Sometimes it's the easy rhythm of _push and pull_ when she's fighting with the sticks, whether it's all about defeating John in a friendly game or defending herself and her team-mates in a battle to life or death. Whenever she visits New Athos, it's the rhythm of melody that sweeps her away, as she sings old songs, her people gathered around her, enraptured by the sound of her voice.

She has discovered a new rhythm now. One that sounds louder, goes deeper and takes her higher than any other rhythm ever did. Smiling softly, she shuffles a little closer to the crib, carefully placing a hand on the small body—feeling the soft _thump thump_ of her beating heart and the way her chest moves up and down with every breath she takes.

In total awe, Teyla watches her daughter sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Title** : Prince Rodney and the Marriage of Doom  
 **Date** : Thursday, 29/11/’07  
 **Character(s)** : John Sheppard, Rodney McKay  
 **Pairing(s)** : Sheppard/McKay  
 **Summary** : _Once upon a time, in a Kingdom far away, lived a Prince in search of a wife. Now, if he could only find one._  
 **Word count** : # 908

 **A/N:** This is complete crack!fic.

"No, no, no!" Prince Rodney yelled, as his father's most trusted counsellor implored: "But my Prince, you must marry. It is for the good of our Kingdom."

"How can me getting married to some idiotic, _good for nothing_ princess possibly be good for the Kingdom?" Prince Rodney shouted back, crossing his arms in a firm gesture while pushing out his chin.

"You father," the counsellor started, bowing deeply, "our dearest King wants it, my Prince. So that—if he were to not wake up tomorrow, his succession would be ensured."

"Oh please— _dearest_ King? Most of you people can't even stand my father." Rodney huffed. "Mind you— I don't blame you."

"Oh no My Prince, that is not true." The counsellor said, his eyes shifting, making sure no one else had heard the Prince's words. "I ensure you that we all love our King very much."

"Yeah yeah." the Prince said, waving distractedly in his direction. "Whatever. Where the hell am I supposed to find a bride anyway? I mean—look at me. I don't exactly look like that idiot, _Prince Charming_ from the next Kingdom over. Possible brides are not waiting in line for me."

"My Prince." The counsellor cautiously started again. "The King has send out his most trusted advisers to every corner of the land to seek out the most suitable matches for you."

"He what?" Rodney yelled again, turning red in the face.

Bowing even deeper, the counsellor continued. "His Majesty believed that it would be beneficial for your— situation, My Prince. And I must say that some interested and-- _interesting_ parties have come forward with the desire to be yours forever."

"Fine fine— if I am destined to marry some nit witted brain-dead girl, I might as well marry one of those you came up with. Where are these silly maidens?"

"Well—" The counsellor hesitated.

"Well what? Spit it out man." The Prince said.

"One, My Prince." The counsellor mumbled.

"One? One what?" Prince Rodney asked.

"I might have exaggerated a little when I said there were _many_ interested parties, Sir. There's actually only _one_."

"Oh, fantastic— now the humiliation is complete." Prince Rodney sneered. "Where is this wench that has decided to tie her faith to mine?"

"Well—" the counsellor hesitated again.

"Oh, what now?" The Prince shouted. "Are you going to tell me that the maiden isn't a maiden at all, but some ugly old witch who just thought that marrying into royalty would be fun?"

"No—not a maiden Sir." The counsellor said, his nose now almost firmly stuck to the ground. "And not exactly an old witch either. But not ugly Sir—not ugly at all!" He nodded vehemently, his nose making contact with the floor with every downwards move.

"What?" The Prince asked, completely confused by now.

"Well, you see My Prince— we didn't exactly find any _women_ who wanted to marry you. It appears that your— _strong-willed_ character –while very charming I'm sure- is not something most women desire in a man."

"Then who did you find?" Prince Rodney spit angrily.

"He found _me_." A voice behind the Prince stated firmly.

The Prince whirled around and stood eye to eye with a tall, slender man. His hair was a mess of black cowlicks that stuck up in the strangest places, -almost- but not quite covering his pointy ears, and his eyes were swirls of hazel and green. The corners of the man's full lips were turned up into a grin as he rakishly leaned against the doorpost of the Prince's room.

"Who are you?" The Prince stupidly asked as soon as he was able to stop staring at this vision.

"John Sheppard." The man said. "I'm an elf from beyond the Pegasus Mountains. I was exploring this part of the forest when I met one of you men. He showed me your picture and explained the situation—and I decided I wouldn't mind marrying you."

"Why?" Prince Rodney asked, sarcasm seeping through. "Don't think you'll be getting a lot of money out of this. I might be a prince, but this Kingdom is not exactly the richest of Kingdoms around."

"Don't want the money." John simply said, staring straight at the Prince. "Just you."

"If not for the money-- why?" Prince Rodney asked again, this time sincerely, because he could not understand why this gorgeous elf would want to marry him—a slightly balding, soft-around-the-middle, genius Prince.

"I had nothing better to do—and I liked your eyes." John said as he stepped into the Prince's personal space. "They're very—blue. None of my people have eyes as blue as the sky. I like that about you."

"Oh great." Rodney muttered as he struggled to take another ragged breath, because _wow_ not only did John _look_ good, he also smelled good. "What a perfect start for an engagement. I want to marry you because I'm bored out of my mind and— _ohyes_ , you've got such pretty eyes. Now I'm filled with confidence that this marriage will succeed. Yes, I'm positive that we'll live happily ever after."

"I know," John said, still smirking like a loon, before he softly caressed Prince Rodney's cheek and leaned in to steal a kiss from a very flustered Prince.

As soon as Prince Rodney found out that John did not only _kiss_ like a genius, but was actually considered to be a _true_ genius among his own people, they got married.

And you know what? They _did_ live happily ever after.


End file.
